


Getting Together

by LeafZelindor



Series: Time and Bound [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafZelindor/pseuds/LeafZelindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John obtains a Secret Admirer, Sherlock starts acting funny. Getting together is a learning experience for them both. A big one. Especially for Sherlock. JohnLock with a touch of Mystrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Together

**Author's Note:**

> I often do not see any awkwardness between John and Sherlock in fics. Well here's my awkward fic. :D

Life at 221B was rarely dull. Even when there weren't cases to be solved. Sherlock was rarely quiet, except when sulking. John was always blogging, trying to make Sherlock relax or working. Occasionally there was the nice quiet evening in. Telly on, or chairs in front of the fire with a book. But so often those nights really were rare. John felt half his life was running out of here and around London in the dark.

Tonight though, Tonight was a quiet night. Sherlock was working on something in the kitchen, making rapid notes. John had settled himself with tea and a book in front of the fire, enjoying the warmth and the peace. He almost wished Sherlock would play his violin.

“Chinese or Indian” Sherlock's voice startled him out of his concentration. John looked at the younger man and let an eyebrow go up. Sherlock rarely, very very rarely brought up food.

“Ah, Chinese I guess.” John said slowly. “want me to call down?”

“No I will handle it.” Sherlock turned away quickly and actually produced his phone. John was surprised not to find his mouth hanging open in shock. He felt extremely confused as he actually heard Sherlock's voice ordering food. Of course the man spoke rapidly and lowly. He couldn't hear him, but it was obviously supper being ordered. John hmmed a bit and tried to turn back to his book. Maybe Sherlock was ill? Or maybe John was finally rubbing off on him.

Sherlock was even odder when the food came. He actually went down and paid the delivery boy himself. John, puzzled by this moved to fix tea and wait for his return. The smell of his favorite dumplings struck John's nose and he glanced over his shoulder. He watched curiously as Sherlock set out the boxes. “Sherlock...”

“Hmm?” Grey-green eyes flicked up to his face, but showed nothing. John shifted just a bit- “Ah, thanks, for getting the food.” John put two mugs of tea out. He found himself rewarded with an unusually bright smile from Sherlock. John returned then smile and settled down to eat. A little startled. Not a single box wasn't something he enjoyed from the Chinese place. He glanced sideways at Sherlock. The man seemed to be ignoring him and was eating Lo Mein almost absently as he made some notes. John shrugged and settled in to apply himself to the meal, enjoying every bite.

After that first night, John found himself noticing other things. His favorite tea was replaced without him going to Tesco. Fewer body parts were popping up in strange places. Sherlock, who had been smoking rather frequently since their last case, wasn't complaining about going cold turkey. An attempt that John was certain would once again come to naught. 

Then one day flowers were delivered to the flat. A rather large, fancy bouquet of them. The card was addressed to John, the hand wasn't familiar, and there was no signature. It quote Shakespeare rather sappily. John frowned, then looked at the flowers and sighed. This was odd beyond belief. He tried to give them over to Mrs. Hudson but she just insisted he should keep them. Surely his admirer would be sad if he didn't! She even found him a vase to put the bloody things in. At least they made the flat smell nice.

Sherlock didn't even comment on them when he came back. John sighed and glanced at him. 

“So, I've got an... Admirer it seems.” John shifted. Sherlock glanced at him, letting an eyebrow arch. “One who writes sappy Shakespeare and thinks I like flowers.”

“Do you not like flowers John?” Came the inquiry. John ignored the fact that the Shakespeare wasn't even mentioned and sighed.

“I like them all right, I'm just, not used to receiving them. Here.. have a look at the card.” John handed over the small object. Sherlock barely skimmed it over then glanced up.

“They are apparently quite enamored with you. How curious. Not a woman either. The hand is to rough.” He announced. John accepted the card back and eyed it a bit.

“So my admirer is male.” John sighed. “more than I knew before.” He settled back with his cup of tea and stared at the fire. “Though pointless of them don't you think? I'm not gay.”

“Of course John.” Sherlock almost sounded amused. John rolled his eyes and settled in to try to read. He wanted to push the idea out of his mind. His suddenly eager to play the violin flatmate was not helping.

Other small gifts arrived intermittently over the next month. Thoughtful gifts really. Though John was thoroughly embarrassed by receiving the silk boxers. The silk sheets he'd stuffed away somewhere. The gun cleaning kit though, that he couldn't help using. Whomever his admirer was, they seemed to know a good deal about him. Sherlock was little help. He made amused nosies, told John to use his eyes and his head.

“You know John.” Sarah interrupted his train of thought. They'd met up for lunch and she had been telling him about how things had been going in her new clinic. John blinked and looked at her. “You know, this fellow. What if he's the one for you? You know, soul mate and all that. And here you are insisting you're straight.”

“I thought you didn't believe in that.” John gave her half a smile. Sarah laughed and then patted his hand.

“Look, It's just, this guy, whomever he is. He really seems to care about you, the person. John Watson. Is that such a bad thing? If I didn't know you better I'd often think you and Sherlock were together, the way you two are thicker than thieves.” Sarah gave him a smile. John found himself sighing.

“Everyone does seem to think that. Don't they.” He murmured, shifting some to fiddle with his glass. “Sarah why does everyone think that? What are we doing exactly. I thought we were always just mates you know. Flatmates, colleagues. There has to be something...”

“Do you want it categorically or alphabetically.” Her tone was completely serious. John frowned and looked at her now. 

“Sarah....” He started then put his glass down. “Just tell me.”

Sarah quietly took a drink of her wine and then sighed. “It's mostly the little things John. You trust each other implicitly. You're almost never seen without each other. You read him so well. And he you. You stabilize him in a way nobody else does John. One would almost say you're made for him. All the deficiencies he has, you counter them.” She gave him a little bit of a sad smile. “It's how I knew we'd never work out. You'll always go if he calls...”

John didn't know how to argue with that. Sarah patted his hand and paid for lunch, despite his protest. Then left him to finish his wine, and to his thoughts. He'd thought he'd always tried to treat Sherlock like a friend, like one of his mates from the unit. Sherlock had always treated him with the utmost trust, why shouldn't he do the same?

John eventually got himself moving. He wandered a stretch. Letting himself brood, thinking things over. Considering his relationship with Sherlock closely. He remembered the painful stretch when he'd thought Sherlock was dead. He recalled his relief at the man's return. That whole situation had added years to him. He'd dated still, met a very nice girl, almost married her. She'd left him, somehow still because of Sherlock, even if he hadn't been there.

Making his way back to the flat John let himself consider more, risky thoughts. He'd had moments, where he couldn't get over how attractive Sherlock was, how interesting he could be. He admitted that quietly to himself. He'd always ranked himself about a 1 on the Kinsey. He never took it beyond occasionally noting if another bloke was attractive. Then he admitted to himself, he'd once thought of kissing Sherlock. In relief honestly, but still... Maybe it was just Sherlock. He tried to consider any other attractive man and felt no desire there. But ultimately, even if he was attracted to Sherlock, that didn't solve the mystery of the admirer he gained. It's not like he could tell the fellow off. He had no idea who they were or how to reach them. John sighed and headed up to the flat. He could hear Sherlock composing. It sounded, sad. He wondered what troubled his flatmate as he let himself through the door. Sherlock didn't even look his way, just kept playing.

“All right there?” John asked. Sherlock just ignored him. John sighed, then shook his head. One of those moods was it? He turned to go up to his room. On the steps was a box. Bigger than some of the rest he'd received recently. Same wrap, a small card stuck to it indicating his name. John picked it up. “Sherlock someone drop this off?” The violin fell quiet, but he got no real response. John could almost feel Sherlock's eyes on him. John sighed and glanced over his shoulder. Pale eyes were following his every move. The Violin was still in place under his chin. That was curious. John straightened, box in hand. “Sherlock?”

“Well why don't you open it.” Sherlock's voice reached his ears, soft baritone sliding across silk. It was, eager almost. John blinked at him, he looked down at the name card. His name was not as scrawled as usual, hand almost familiar. He shrugged, then moved to sit in his chair, tugging at the ribbon.

“Happy Birthday by the way.” Sherlock's voice was almost sounding distracted. Idly the familiar tune was played for a few bars. John chuckled, glancing up with a smile. He really hadn't thought that hard about his birthday this year. It'd actually been a few days ago.

“Thank you.” He dropped his attention back to the box. Now fully aware of the gaze of his flatmate. It felt, eager. John managed not to look up. He carefully removed the wrap and opened up the box. A fuzzy grey jumper with a manila envelope on top of it looked at him. He'd been looking to replace one of his jumpers. This one, he touched slowly, was thick and soft. Very nice. Picking up the envelope, he saw it wasn't sealed, and carefully he pulled out the heavy linen paper. Very fancy paper that was. He opened it up and blinked. The familiar scrawl of Sherlock's hand was on it. “I am he.” It said. John just stared at it a bit, then his eyes flicked up. Sherlock just stared at him silently. His face betrayed nothing. John carefully refolded the paper. “Sherlock... ah... Thank you.” He looked back down quickly. Sherlock shifted and then the violin began to play again. Composing once more, the tune was unfamiliar to John. So that was it then? All the secrecy, the niceness, was because Sherlock, liked him? John found himself uncertain about how he felt about it. 

~

Nothing more was said. Sherlock somewhat when back to his usual behavior. Though touches of the niceness remained. John considered Sherlock quietly for the better part of a week. Perhaps this was Sherlock's way of flirting? It would be like the man. Anything the consulting detective knew of the rules of dating had probably been long deleted, and he'd been trying to follow modern convention as he could find it on the internet or something. It was, cute. John chuckled to himself at this realization. Sherlock wasn't sure how to explain his feelings, so he was showing them. 

John looked at the jumper. It had been sitting on top of his dresser. He quietly reached out and picked it up, feeling the warmth of it. It was a thoughtful gift, especially coming from Sherlock who generally complained about John's jumpers and told him not to wear them. After a moment he pulled it on over his shirt, feeling the weight, the softness. It was a very nice Jumper. He slowly wandered downstairs. “Sherlock, want some tea?”

“Busy.” His younger flatmate's voice rang out from the bathroom. John decided he didn't really want to know and moved to start making tea, two mugs. He often did, though he wondered how much of that tea was often wasted. He heard banging around and then footsteps. They stilled as Sherlock exited his bedroom. He felt eyes on him.

“Thank you again, for the jumper.” John said, as off handed as possible. He didn't want to make things to awkward. He however jumped as a hand slid over his shoulder. Then dropped the mug as an arm slid around his waist. There was warmth against his back, two arms holding him against the chest of his flatmate. Sherlock said nothing, his touch spoke volumes. John blushed. Curls brushed against his neck as Sherlock bowed his head to John's shoulder.

“...Sherlock?” He started slowly. THe other man simply tightened his hold a bit. There was nothing sexual about the embrace, but John still felt like it was an extremely intimate moment between them. Just as abruptly as the hug had started the taller man pulled back, John could hear him straightening his shirt a bit.

“John.” It was a tone John hadn't heard before. Heavy, low, it sent a surprising thrill down his spine. He let himself turn to look at Sherlock. “I, I don't know how to... Express.” Sherlock paused. His voice was still low. John shifted, blushing.

“It's okay... I um, I get the message.” He tried to give his friend an out from trying. Sherlock shook his head a bit. 

“No I need to...Mycroft insisted I, explain myself...”

“Since when do you do anything Mycroft tells you to?” John asked, shaking his head. “He's not your bloody keeper...”

“John.” SHerlock's tone was insistent. He fell quiet, staring at the taller man. “Was I wrong?”

“About, what?” John was startled at the question. He watched Sherlock closely. The man actually looked nervous.

“You, care about me. Not.. Not just as your flatmate, or friend.” Sherlock paused, then before John could respond. “I know men are not, your usual companions. I, have run every scenario I could imagine.”

“Sherlock, Shut up.” John interrupted him. He found himself blushing, he watched the taller man. “I, I do like you Sherlock. You are, attractive and intelligent and...” John found himself cut off, as awkwardly his flatmate threw himself the short distance between them and pressed their mouths together. It was surprising, like a teenager's awkward first kiss. John briefly thought it was likely the first time Sherlock had every kissed anyone. He carefully pressed his hands to a slim chest, tilting his head. “Not like that Sherlock.”

Sherlock stepped back, John caught a glimpse of nerves, and uncertainty in grey-green eyes and steeled himself some. Reaching up he carefully caught the collar of Sherlock's shirt and tugged him back close. He briefly mentally cursed his height and shifted up, very gently, and more controlled letting his lips press against Sherlock's. Sherlock tried to lean in a bit more, increasing the pressure between their lips. John couldn't help a chuckle and pulled back again. “You don't do things by halfs do you.”

“What? Is that not how kissing works?” Sherlock looked properly confused. John sighed, then smiled at him, trying to be assuring.

“Yes, but.. you're very clinical about it, yet, trying to be eager. You can't be both.” John slowly let go of Sherlock's shirt, smoothing it some. “You have to be... comfortable, yet spontaneous.”

“I don't understand.” Sherlock's eyes had narrowed, thinking. “Should I have tried with tongue?”

“no! no, Sherlock it was fine. It just.” John paused, thinking quickly. “Have you ever kissed anyone before today? Not on the cheek..”

Sherlock shook his head slightly, watching him very closely. John couldn't help another smile. “Well, lips are just a cheek that can move with you, against you... So, You can't just.. slam them together and expect it to be right.”

“oh.” Sherlock paused, then gave him a curious look. “In film people always seem to, slam them together. I particularly enjoyed the rain scene. I have imagined us kissing in such a manner.”

John felt the blush blazing up from his collar. He stared for a long moment at Sherlock. This was a man who would hollar any time he turned on crap telly. He watched movies? And what sort of movies? John found himself flooded with questions.

“I needed Data.” Sherlock informed quickly, picking up on John's silence for what it was. “I.. Have never desired to date before.”

“That explains a few things.” John paused. “The gifts, flowers. I wondered where you were getting flirting tips from.”

“Well I certainly couldn't ask Mycroft. His idea of getting Lestrade on a date was to kidnap him.” Sherlock looked somewhat amused. John shook his head. His experience with Mycroft made that very believable. “Was I wrong? How I...”

“Well generally secret admirers don't buy sheets or, boxers.” John smiled lightly. “But they do write lines of Shakespeare and send flowers. So you were half right.”

“I fear I will be an inadequate... ah..” Sherlock paused, seeming not sure what to call what they were. Boyfriends did sound rather juvenile, Lovers to intimate. “Partner.” He finished. John shook his head.

“I doubt it. Sherlock we don't have to do anything different than we did before. Just, perhaps actually go on dates, snog on the couch.” John soothed. He knew that Sherlock wouldn't be inadequate. He was good at everything he really tried to do.

“And sex yes?” Sherlock paused. “I, it seems, messy.”

“It is. But why don't we, take it a step at a time.” John smiles. “Sex doesn’t have to happen right away.”

“You generally sleep with your girlfriends after the second date..” Sherlock starts, John groaned softly and shook his head.

“Sherlock, please do not boil our relationship down to, that.” He sighed. “We've been living together for a long time. If I was going to jump you like that I think I would have already.”

“Would you?” Sherlock looked curious. Then John rolled his eyes a bit.

“No, but the point is, We don't have to have sex until you're ready to have sex. I'm pretty sure the idea is even new to you.” JOhn shifted. Then Sherlock slowly nodded.

“I have long, suppressed those types of needs. They have been, unnecessary.” Sherlock slowly moved to sit on his stool by his microscope.

“Well, a step at a time then.” John moved now, quietly wanting to pick up the broken mug. “Tea?”

“please.” Sherlock's tone was gentle, he was distracted, but John deserved his attention to. It was a nice feeling. John found himself smiling as he cleaned up and fixed a fresh mug for them both. So things would change. He just briefly hoped, it wasn't some giant experiment for Sherlock.

~

They didn't see a point in mentioning to anyone the change in their relationship. John found it most entertaining to explain modern courtship to Sherlock. The man really had never noticed, outside of to needle Molly. Dear Molly, who had managed to move on from him. But that was still the superficial parts of relationships. John explained why people went on dates, got the objection that they already knew plenty about each other. Then John explained carefully the romantic component. He even gave a few examples he remembered from his childhood of his parents going out. Sherlock had been interested in that. 

They'd even tried. Angelo's of course. No need to go somewhere new to try something new. They'd made it through most of the meal before Sherlock's hand had quietly covered John's on the table. Their eyes met, a smile was shared. It hadn't taken them long to return home. The ensuing snog on the couch had been most satisfying in many respects. Sherlock was a fast learner, once he'd allowed John to show him how kissing worked he'd been eager to try. Often he'd caught John off guard and Mrs. Hudson had made a comment about the number of broken dishes she was having to replace. 

It was easier now though, to relax at home. Often the couch was their choice place instead of their chairs. At least when Sherlock wanted to think without use of the violin. John would settle at one end, laptop or book at hand. Sherlock would flop down settling his head in John's lap. At some point John's fingers would tangle in dark curls. Sherlock insisted it was quite conductive to thinking and never made him stop.

Mrs Hudson was the first to discover the real change in their relationship. A case had them out till the wee hours and there had been a insane chase. People had been shot at. They'd come back to the flat exhausted, but needing to reassure themselves that everything was fine. Collapsing together on the couch, kissing and touching. They'd fallen asleep. Mrs Hudson discovered them in the morning when she'd brought up some of her scones. Neither was awake to see the delighted smile that crossed her face. She'd known those boys were good for each other. She left the scones and a little note for them and snuck back out.

“Damn.” Sherlock cursed softly in John's ear. The blond grunted and shifted just a bit against his chest. A smile curved onto the younger man's face. He supposed he could deal with Mrs. Hudson knowing. She had always been supportive of him. And had assumed right off they were a couple. Besides, maybe she'd be less cranky about cleaning now. “John, Mrs. Hudson has seen us.”

“Mm good for her. She thought we were knocking boots ages ago.” John muttered, he sleepily shifted to kiss Sherlock. The younger man returned the affection briefly amused with his partner.

“We still aren't, Knocking boots.” He pointed out. John snorted and moved to get up, grumbling some about sleeping on couches and late night cases. Sherlock quietly watched his partner stretch and work a few kinks from his back and neck. It had been some of the best sleep Sherlock had allowed himself in a very long time.

“No, but we should start sharing a bed yes?” The suggestion earned him a curious look. “I simply observed that I slept quite well with you here last night.”

“Oh.” John shuffled to the kitchen, a scone already off the tray in his hand. “Well I guess, if you're comfortable with the idea.”

“I'll clear a spot in my dresser.” Sherlock offered. The domestic things seemed to make John very happy with him. John glanced his way but nodded, taking a bite of the scone in his hand and reaching for the tea things with the other. Sherlock felt quietly delighted. Part of him was nervous though. Sharing a bed did, generally mean expanding their relationship. He knew that from his research. Sherlock shuffled into his room, starting to move things. He had several drawers with experiments in them. They could be sacrificed to this move he supposed. It took a moment for him to check them, then decide which ones needed to stay and which held no more value to him. After a few moments he felt eyes on him. Glancing towards the door rewarded him with the sight of John leaning there with a steaming cup, the soft expression made warmth rise inside of him. He enjoyed John's expressions. Each spoke volumes to what he was thinking and feeling. 

“You're serious about the bed...” John offered, taking a sip from his mug. Sherlock just nodded briefly and finished clearing the drawers he could sacrifice to this next important step. “I'll get some of my things.” John's footsteps moved away, there was a creak as he hit the bottom step up to his room. Sherlock couldn't help smiling. He shuffled out to steal a scone from the plate for himself. Certainly worth it. 

~

John still wasn't fully certain this whole mess wasn't some insane experiment for Sherlock. Oh the man was truthful in his words and actions. But that didn't mean it wasn't. Generally they were only affectionate inside the flat. They didn't even hold hands on occasions when they went out for personal reasons.

John had tried not to be surprised, or embarrassed when Sherlock grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together in the cab. He glanced at his younger partner quietly. Sherlock had a bit of a smile on his face. One that had nothing to do with the case itself they were headed to. “What is it?”

“This.” Sherlock squeezed his hand. “I, found excuses before.” He murmured. John let his eyebrow go up, but could clearly remember some times that Sherlock had made an excuse to hold his hand.

“Well you can do it whenever you like Sherlock.” He assured. The brunet looked at him quietly and nodded. John shifted just a bit, letting his shoulder settle against Sherlock's. His eyes settled back outside, taking in London as they traveled through it. He figured that Sherlock would let go when they got the scene.

However he didn't. Sherlock only let go long enough for them to get out of the cab, then he quickly laced their fingers again. John let himself simply feel the warmed leather of Sherlock's glove against his skin. Donavan was waiting for them as always, she opened her mouth to say something, then her eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut. Sherlock just brushed past her calmly. “I do hope this is worth our while.”

“I'm sure it is.” John assured automatically. Inwardly he squashed a snicker at the way eyes popped as they were spotted. Some of the squad didn't notice right away. They often walked close together. Lestrade waved them over and then rolled his eyes.

“This isn't a date you know.” He drawled. Sherlock let an eyebrow go up.

“I didn't think so. New watch?” He gave Lestrade his smile which meant he knew fully well he was being a jerk. Lestrade quickly dropped the hand and cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, Come long then. Just this way.” The greying Detective Inspector quickly showed them where the bodies could be found. John pulled away to give them a bit of a professional exam while Sherlock gazed around the room and started to spout statements. John pipped up a few things. Sherlock included them in his rapidly evolving deduction.

“Honestly can't you see it was the step-father. Lestrade, you really interrupted our evening for this? I know you have a brain under that hair. Though I suppose that since you weren't back to your flat last night it's running a touch slower than usual.” Sherlock mused. John rolled his eyes and then gave Lestrade a smile. The DI blushed and shook his head.

“Thank you Sherlock. It's fine really. I just needed the evidence that only you can often find.” Lestrade expressed. Sherlock rolled his eyes and reached out for John, who was just a touch to far away.

“If you opened your eyes a bit more you'd solve these without me. Really Inspector.” Sherlock glanced at John now. John shook his head and moved closer, letting Sherlock latch onto him again. “Tell my brother we'll be by for that dinner on Sunday.”

“Why would... Oh sod it. Piss off.” Lestrade waved a hand, looking a bit flustered. John snorted and tugged on Sherlock now. They moved to go.

“What was that hmm? It's not nice to needle him like that.” John inquired as they made out to find a new cab.

“It's fun to make him squirm. He's the one who took up with Mycroft after all.” Sherlock shrugged, then let go of his hand to slide an arm around him. “Hungry?”

“I suppose.” John leaned a bit against him quietly. Sherlock waved down a cab with his other hand and gave him space to settle in. The brunet seemed to want to cuddle. Odd since they were more or less in public. But John found that he enjoyed anything Sherlock did. “What's on your mind?”

“Why do you ask?” Sherlock murmured, his eyes were on something outside the cab. John just relaxed against him.

“You've pretty much informed everyone that matters we're an item.” John quipped. Sherlock snorted and John felt a brush of lips against his hair.

“I'd like you to meet Mummy.” He murmured. John blinked then shifted to look at him curiously. “I mean, well as much as one can meet someone who is dead.”

“I'd love to Sherlock.” John smiled and then leaned in to kiss him, despite the Cabby making a disgruntled noise. They were hardly the first couple to kiss in the back of a cab after all. It was tender and lingered a few moments. Sherlock gently nipped at his lower lip then pulled back.

“Ah, here we are. Stop!” The cabby was paid and Sherlock tugged John out. Unsurprisingly they were outside of Angelo's. The food there was good. “I'm quite hungry. I think the special tonight.” Sherlock mused, pulling him inside. John couldn't help laughing and following. Things were slowly progressing. He honestly had never enjoyed a relationship more.

~

Sunday dinner with Mycroft was, quiet. Lestrade was there as well, and looked rather uncomfortable with the banter between the brothers. John was only half listening and trying to make the DI feel more comfortable by talking football. So far Mycroft and Sherlock were only teasing each other really. Though it honestly sounded less light than all that.

“Why does that matter?” Sherlock's sharp voice brought John back into focus. He blinked and looked between them, he'd missed whatever had been said.

“It is part of things Sherlock.” Mycroft mused. Greg was noticeably red cheeked. John reached over to cover Sherlock's hand in a comforting manner. Long fingers latched onto his hand firmly.

“It's none of your business.” Sherlock said crisply. John studied him, then glanced at Mycroft. “As is the rest of our relationship. Do I ask you about your bed activities with Lestrade?”

“Sherlock.” Lestrade turned even redder. He looked like he wanted to disappear. John squeezed Sherlock's hand gain then got up.

“Come on Greg, you could use a walk.” He offered. The older man gave him a grateful look and soon they were down a hall, away from the brothers who were going at it quite loudly. “You all right?”

“How can you handle them John? Mycroft's fine on his own.” Greg sighed and walked along with him quietly.

“And Sherlock is fine on his own. They're just difficult when in the same room. Fortunately they don't see it necessary to be all family all the time.” John shrugged, wandering along. “Give me a tour?” Greg relaxed at the suggestion, the nodded and started to show John around the townhouse while their lovers had it out in the dinning room.

Later John found himself settled in a very comfortable and large bed with Sherlock. The brunet was curled to him, lips lightly pressed against his neck. “What's the matter?” He inquired. Sherlock had been far to focused on his shoulders and neck to not have something on his mind.

“Do you want sex?” Sherlock asked, his voice was very soft, almost childlike in it's nervousness. John shifted, gently tipping his face up so they looked at each other.

“I told you, sex only if and when you're ready. Sherlock, I could be with you for the rest of my life without sex and I would be happy.” John tried to express what he meant. Though it tickled his mind, this was love. This was being in love. He couldn't say it out loud yet, but it was.

“You had it often when you dated women. Don't you miss it?” Sherlock asked, eyes searching.

“Bloody hell, yes I miss it you git. But it's not necessary. Really. I don't know how to prove that to you.” John sighed and leaned in to kiss him. “You are wonderful just with what you are comfortable with. I don't need sex to love being with you.”

Sherlock kissed him back, but then just watched him a moment. “You are telling the truth...” He murmured. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Are...On the internet. It said there were... other ways to gain pleasure.”

John reached out and trailed his fingers over Sherlock's cheek. “Yeah there are. But they can also be messy, and also, are not necessary between us.”

“I would like to try... something.” It was almost painful to hear Sherlock be so hesitant. So unlike himself. Though John did figure that this was something Sherlock hardly ever had considered before they had, started this relationship.

“This isn't a big experiment is it Sherlock?” John found himself asking, his eyes searching now. Sherlock blinked at him, face still rather blank, then a tiny smile. The brunet shook his head, curls bouncing for a moment.

“No John. Matters of the heart cannot be an experiment.” He responded, John picked up conviction in his voice. He wanted it to be clear. Grey-green met blue for a long moment, then John couldn't help a smile.

“I'm, extraordinarily happy to hear that Sherlock.” John murmured. He leaned in and caught Sherlock's mouth in a heady kiss. He poured the feelings he couldn't voice into it. Sherlock responded quickly enough, tongue probing, it was a tangle of skin, tongue, teeth for a long moment. When they finally broke the kiss John found himself breathing quiet heavily and wishing that Sherlock looked even a little disheveled. “Yes. You can try, whatever it is.” He breathed out.

Sherlock lit up with eagerness. John found himself pushed back into a pile of pillows. He had been coaxed into bed shirtless, so there was nothing there for Sherlock to remove. His fingers trailed though, exploring John's chest as if he hadn't done the same thing two days ago. Briefly they skated over his now old bullet scar, then lips pressed against it. John's eyes half closed. Sherlock was perceptive to some things. Like that his scar was actually quite sensitive. They'd discovered it by accident one night during a particularly good snog. Sherlock's focus didn't stay there though, his hand slid down slowly, hesitating against his stomach, just a touch above the waist of his Pajama's. 

John felt his stomach suck in almost without thinking. Part of him was nervous about this too. He licked his lips a little and let his eyes drop to the hand. Lovely long fingers. Fingers which often played in his dreams lately. Those fingers hesitated for almost longer than he could handle before they edged under the elastic waistband. John felt a shiver go through him. Sherlock was exploring. Despite their rather frequent snogs, it had always stayed above the waist. He really hadn't wanted to press Sherlock. He let his eyes close, picturing the fingers still obscured by fabric. Slowly they stroked down through public hair, just brushing, then hesitating short of their goal.

“It's okay Sherlock.” He assured with a low voice. He felt lips press against his stomach, his eyes flew open to get a sight of mostly curly hair. Then a slight shift that let him see closed eyes, those lips hovered against his skin, almost giving assurance before those fingers shifted to brush along the side of John's cock. A low growl slid from the blond's throat, it sent a jolt through him. Sherlock's eyes flew open and he looked up, studying the face of his partner closely. Fingers slowly curved, wrapping around the already firmed skin, briefly the fingers slid up, then down. John couldn't help groaning again, his eyes fluttering closed. “Sherlock...”

“Good?” Sherlock murmured softly, his fingers repeated the motion.

“Oh yes.” JOhn breathed, encouraging. He was going to explode if Sherlock continued to touch him like this. It was good, light, hesitant, and so teasing. Several minutes passed and then the hand pulled away quickly. John started to voice a protest.

“Hips up John.” Sherlock murmured, his voice low again. John managed to look at him and complied. Feeling the fabric of his pants sliding over the weeping head of his cock. It made him whimper a bit. Sherlock's eyes flickered, pleasure seemed to go through the younger man at the noise. “Does it feel different than when you do it?” Sherlock inquired softly. John nodded a bit, and then was rewarded with the fingers returning to touching him. Sherlock's grip became a little more secure now. John rolled his hips up, he could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, eager, curious.

“Close...” John breathed as he felt the tension pooling in his groin.

“How should I finish you?” Sherlock asked, he sounded uncertain, his fingers had stilled, curled around him.

“squeeze, then stroke again, can..” John groaned as he felt Sherlock following his instructions already. “Thumb over the head... rub.. OH Fuck!” John jerked as his release took over. Sherlock's hand fell still as cum spattered John's stomach and his hand. John shuddered and then fell limp. He let his eyes open only to see Sherlock's curious tongue licking at the back of his hand. Grey-green eyes shifted in surprise.

“Oh god Sherlock that looks... Sinful.” He bit his lip a moment. Sherlock's cheeks reddened, his expression almost shy. “What love?”

“Perhaps next time I could... use my mouth on you.” Sherlock murmured, then before John could respond he leaned in to lick at John's stomach. John couldn't help fingers tangling in Sherlock's dark curls, his eyes half closing as he felt the tongue running over his skin. 

“If... If you want.” He breathed, then shifted to tug Sherlock's head up, leaning to kiss him eagerly, getting a taste of himself on Sherlock's mouth. It was hotter than anything he'd ever imagined. Sherlock melted into the kiss, and when John broke it a soft protest left the younger man.

“Want me to give you an example of what you can do?” John asked softly. Not that he was, completely familiar with giving a blowjob. He had received though, which he was certain was more than Sherlock could say. The younger man stared down at him, eyes widen, pupils a bit dilated. “Sherlock?”

“John...” Sherlock swallowed and nodded a bit. His cheeks were pink with arousal. John could tell he wanted touch, even if John hadn't offered more than his hand. He quickly turned his attention to Sherlock's belt and the button on his trousers. Several buttons, which John found annoying and yet somewhat more erotic than a zip could be. He got them unfastened and tugged at the fabric. Sherlock lifted his hips in compliance and it slid down, John had managed to catch his pants as well, allowing Sherlock's cock to come free from the fabric. It was lovely, just like any other part. John moved one hand to let his fingers brush slowly, from base to tip. Sherlock's breath caught, John could almost feel the intensity of his gaze.

Glancing up rewarded him with a gorgeous view of his partner aroused. Eyes dilated, cheeks flushed, kiss bruised lips parted. Every so often a bit of tongue flicking out from between those lovely lips. Sherlock looked so sexy like this, and John couldn't even express it. His fingers stroked again, and those eyes fluttered to a half closed state. So beautiful. Then John turned his attention back to what he was doing. Briefly he considered what he recalled enjoying himself, his hand settled firmly wrapped around the base, guiding Sherlock's lovely musky smelling cock some. Slowly his tongue flicked out, a taste, a tease, earning a strange strangled noise from his dear Sherlock. It was an odd, but hardly unpleasent taste. Somewhat salty skin. John shifted up some, and licked again, a longer one, which swirled across more than just a bit of skin. The whimper that slid from Sherlock's throat was thrilling, and encouraging. 

Steeling himself a little and feeling nervous about it, John brushed his tongue over the head of Sherlock's cock, tasting the pre-cum that had oozed out and then carefully he sucked just that much into his mouth. Sherlock's fingers tangled into the bedding. John focused on what he was doing now. Wanting to do it right, it was awkward though. He slowly bobbed his head, trying not to scrape skin with his teeth. Sherlock bucked though, the head of his cock hit the back of John's throat and his jerked back coughing a bit, his face flushed.

“Oh John. John I'm sorry, I just.” Sherlock found himself shushed by fingers pressed to his lips. He kissed them. John got control of his breathing again and let himself smile. 

“Don't.. Just, got to not do that. Okay?” John assigured. Sherlock stared at him, then nodded his head slowly. John shifted his position, the free hand now settled on Sherlock's hip, giving it a squeeze. He then lowered his head and caught firm skin between his lips. Sherlock tried to buck, but the hand on his hip helped. John carefully bobbed his head some, working a bit more, taking what he could manage for now. His tongue carefully teased a bit and he bobbed his head some more, trying to coax the little delightful whimpers out of his lover that he was so enjoying ot hear.

It didn't take Sherlock long. His inexperience and the new situation caught them both off guard. Sherlock froze with a soft cry, John jerked back in surprise as the first bit hit the back of his throat. He swallowed and blushed some as he realized he now had cum on his face, though some admittedly was on Sherlock as well. He gave the brunet the same gentle treatment that he'd been given, cleaning him up with a gentle tongue. He found a tissue and wiped his face off some, then shifted up to gently kiss the still panting Sherlock.

“That was....” Sherlock let his lips be caught then as soon as they were free again. “Most interesting. We... Need practice.”

John couldn't help a bubble of laughter that escaped. He slowly settled down, arms around his thin lover. Sherlock curled to him, and pulled a cover up over them as well. It was cozy like this. Sherlock's breathing evened before his, it was soothing. Soon John was asleep as well.

~

It was actually a while before the subject of sex came up again. Things had gotten busy with several intensive cases in a row. Sherlock didn't try to do more than cuddle, and John did his best not to push. It was a little harder now, now that they'd taken that step. He didn't want Sherlock hurt though, or pressured.

“John, do you miss sex?”

The blond blinked and looked up at his lover, then shook his head. “Sherlock, what did i say about that?”

“I'm serious. We don't... do anything. Don't you miss it?” Sherlock insisted now. John sighed and then gave him a little half smile.

“Of course I miss it. But I love having you with me.” He shrugged. “It's a fair trade. Really. Life is not dull with you around.”

Sherlock actually blushed and just blinked at him for a bit before going back to playing on his violin. John hadn't even noticed he'd started. Now he found he couldn't help but watch. There was a fire burning, it lit more of the room than the lamp in the corner. The shadows flickered around Sherlock's face, over his fingers, the violin. The tune Sherlock was playing was haunting, sweet. John found his eyes tracing over lovely long fingers. Taking in how they moved on the strings. How the other hand curled around the bow. Sherlock was a living work of art at times. He found he couldn't look away from it.

Sherlock half watched him, he could feel the intensity of John's eyes. He was thrilled being his partner's center of attention. John's eyes devoured him, they always did. He loved it. He wanted this forever. Grey-green eyes slid closed as he moved towards the end of the piece. The flat filled with the sound of the violin, he drew out the last note as long as he could.

“Perfect...” John's voice broke the air softly. It caused a shiver to dart down Sherlock's spine. The younger man quietly put his violin and bow down, fingers caressing the wood lightly as his eyes traveled over to his lover. Where they lovers even if they did not share such an intimate act? Yes he decided. They were. The expression that John's face wore now was certainly that of a lover. A smile flitted across Sherlock's face. His John. His lover. A man who was being extraordinarily patient with him. He quietly padded from where his music stand stood to where John sat on the couch. John blinked a little and gave him a curious look. Sherlock slowly deposited himself in the older man's lap and leaned down to kiss him. 

John was pleasantly pleased with this turn of events. His arms slid securely around Sherlock's waist, he enthusiastically returned the kiss, deepening it when Sherlock indicated he was ready. The younger man melted. He loved to kiss John, he loved to be in his arms. Oh he could fully admit the sensation of being held and kissed and loved... yes Loved, was wonderful and made him feel things he is relatively sure he hadn't felt since he was small.

Gently lips parted. John's mouth trailed over his jaw, a ghost of a touch. It made Sherlock shiver. He wanted more. He didn't know how to say it. He didn't know if he could do it. He whimpered as John nipped his earlobe, eyes closing tightly.

“Sherlock?” Warm breath carried his name. “Sherlock are you okay?”

Always so concerned about him. Always caring. His John, his wonderful blogger. His friend, his lover. Sherlock still wasn't sure how he deserved this man. Slowly he made himself focus on John, studying his face slowly. John was such an open book. He tried so hard. Sherlock could see the desire in the blond's eyes. He could feel it under him. Yet John always held back, held back for him. So he didn't feel pushed, stressed, uncomfortable.

Sherlock found he was often uncomfortable around John these days, just not in the way the doctor had considered. He wished he could voice what he wanted, no amount of courage seemed to take Sherlock's hand and guide him. 

“Sherlock?” John's hand was on his cheek now. Sherlock leaned into it quietly. John watched closely, trying to figure out what was on Sherlock's mind. He seemed, on the edge of saying something and then he would stop himself. John's fingers stroked slowly. “Sherlock, stop thinking. Just do...” He coaxed softly.

Sherlock's expression became startled, as if that idea had never occurred to him. The brunet leaned in and kissed him again, then shifted to climb out of the doctor's lap. John blinked, then found himself staring at an offered hand. He reached up, and then allowed Sherlock to pull him to his feet. Sherlock still didn't say anything, and once John was standing started to pull him towards the bedroom.

“Sherlock..”

“John.” Those beautiful eyes looked over Sherlock's shoulder at him. John shivered at their intensity. He let Sherlock pull him into the bedroom. The brunet dropped his hand and moved to pull at his jumper. John laughed a little as it got caught on his arms. He raised them automatically though and was rewarded with a kiss as soon as the fabric cleared his mouth. It was an eager gentle kiss. It alerted him that Sherlock wanted this. It wasn't just trying to fill in something that was missing. It was thrilling. He wasn't sure where the Jumper landed, nor did he really care. His own hands slid to grasp the silky fabric of Sherlock's button down. The fabric came untucked easily. Sherlock stilled, his breathing catching, then lips continued to assault John's face somewhat eagerly. John couldn't help a soft chuckle, he snuck fingers under the fabric, trying to get to the smooth pale skin hiding under the shirt. He felt something pop and pulled back enough to see that his own shirt now missed a couple buttons.

“Sorry.” Sherlock murmured. John's eyes flicked to him and then he chuckled and shook his head.

“Just buttons.” He murmured, tugging lightly at the shirt he had been rumpling himself. Sherlock tugged back and then quickly started to unbutton it. Obviously he didn't want the buttons on his own shirt pulled off. John leaned back against the door to watch, moving to finish unbuttoning quickly. Sherlock's cheeks were flushed, they only became redder as he hurried from his clothing.

“Sherlock..”

“I want you John.” Sherlock's voice stopped him before he could say anything further. “I want you... I want to....” Sherlock hesitated, eyes searching.

John moved to pull him into a kiss, their bare chests going flush all warm skin and slightly goose pimpled from the chill of the air in the flat. Sherlock actually relaxed against him. John poured his feelings into the kiss. His delight, his love, his fervent hope that Sherlock would trust him this much. As much as he could live without sex, the idea of sex with Sherlock had gotten very appealing. Slowly John pulled from the embrace. His eyes soft, eager, and he hoped assuring to his younger lover.

“Go ahead and finish undressing. Get on the bed.” John instructed softly. Sherlock seemed to be beyond pleased for a direction. “Did you watch some vids on this too?”

“I.. Tried. But...” Sherlock shifted, hands dropping to his trousers some now. “It just seems so...”

“I'll do my best to make this a very good learning experience then Sherlock. Don't you dare delete it.” John let his voice turn teasing at the end.

“Never delete anything concerning you John.” Sherlock assured. His eyes tracked John's movements over to the bedside stand. John dug out a tube of lube. He'd brought it down from his room at some point, but it had gone unused. He was glad now that he had it though. Sherlock shucked his trousers, fingers catching the waist of his pants now as he watched John drop the lube on the pillow and move to finish undressing.

Sherlock chewed his lip. They'd been naked a few times together since the night at Mycroft's townhouse. Sherlock still wasn't sure how he felt about such things. But he knew he liked to watch John. He'd deliberately pretended to stay asleep a few times to watch him go or come from the shower.

“Sherlock, it's all right.” John murmured, kicking his pants off. He was half hard in anticipation. Sherlock swallowed some. He'd gotten a more familiar with John's cock. He was less wary about touching it and had even tasted it. Though he was unable to do as John had and give a proper blow. The other man didn't seem to mind. Sherlock had certainly found he enjoyed the doctor's attentions when he gave them. Part of him simply wished to pounce on the blond and give him some oral stimulation.

“Sherlock I said get undressed and get in bed.” John's voice rocketed over him. It was soft commanding. Sherlock shivered and found himself suppressing a whimper. He hurried to comply. Settling himself on the bed. The look John gave him was almost, thoughtful for a moment, then it went back to being intense and devouring. “Much better.”

John was fascinated. Sherlock was a shy lover, but he responded deliciously to instruction. He'd found himself giving the last instruction with a touch of order to his tone and the transformation over his lover had been, amazing. They would explore this further, not today, but in the future. As long as Sherlock consented to a repeat performance. Now though, now was about teaching, about loving. He wanted Sherlock to love all of this.

He managed to squash a nervous giggle as he moved to join Sherlock on the bed. Leaning in he nuzzled at the detective. “If you decide you want to stop you just tell me. We can keep it as we have been.” John murmured in assurance.

“I want this.” Sherlock repeated stubbornly really. John smiled, kissing the pulse point below Sherlock's jaw.

“Okay. Pay attention. I'm teaching now. You can enjoy but there'll be a quiz later.” John was teasing him, but it seemed to relax Sherlock too. “Spread your legs some..”

“Would it not be better if I was on my hands and knees?” Sherlock asked lowly, his eyes flickering a bit. What little he'd found in his research and been able to make himself look at seemed to indicate that was a good position to be in. John considered the suggestion. 

“I suppose so. I was going to...” John paused, “for the moment stay like this. You won't be comfortable holding yourself like that for... overly long.” John, nuzzled again then gently slid a hand between his legs, coaxing. Sherlock flushed again, letting his legs spread some. John kissed his shoulder, and palmed him lightly. “You remember what I did last time?” The doctor inquired softly, his fingers lightly squeezed, sliding down over Sherlock's balls. The brunet nodded shortly, his breath quickening some. It was part of the reason he was curious about, actually doing this.

“Y.. Yes..” He swallowed. John smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, first, I'm going to do that again.. So..” John slid down the bed easily, nose nuzzling his hip, then tongue darting teasingly over the skin towards Sherlock's lovely, alert cock. The doctor knew it would be easier for Sherlock if he was a little distracted. Fingers fondled at him, then a mouth descended. The familiar warmth was welcome. Sherlock rocked up some. He could just pick up the shift of John reaching for the lube and heard the click of the cap. However he was quite fine with concentrating on that lovely wet mouth and what it was promising.

John managed to get some of the lube onto his fingers, he could feel Sherlock's hand in his hair. Bobbing his head some he gave a hard suck as he pushed one finger in at the same time. A moan slid from Sherlock. Muscles flexed. So far encouraging. John slowly worked his cock over a bit, promising. Sherlock shuddered, but relaxed a bit, as much as he could. It helped. He had to take this slow. The finger slowly worked into Sherlock, massaging lightly, getting him used to the feel. Then John pulled the finger back enough to coax a second in. Sherlock whimpered and shifted some. John could sense the shift. A struggle between wanting to rock down against the intrusion and tense against it. He quickly pushed the fingers deeper and curved them some, searching quickly.

“JOHN!” Sherlock jerked, John pulled back before he could get gagged and looked up at the face of his younger love. Sherlock had a confused expression, but one that was confused only because of new feelings. John couldn't help twitching his fingers again, watching those lovely eyes roll back and hearing the half cry that left Sherlock again.

“Good?” He asked. Sherlock managed to nod, almost like a rubber doll. Another moan left him. John eased the fingers back and worked them a little. Sherlock was going to be begging him before he was ready to take him. He wanted it that way.

Fire shot through Sherlock. He bit his lip hard. It was impossible to decide if the intrusion was fully wanted or not. But it felt...when John did that...

“Please.” He whimpered. John chuckled and licked his cock again, wet and sloppy. It wasn't as disgusting as he thought it might be. He felt the fingers flexing, a strange stretching. Sherlock shuddered and rocked slowly, experimentally. John rewarded him with another flash of fiery pleasure.

“Now..” John pulled back, his voice was heavy with the eager pleasure he got. Sherlock shuddered, he wasn't ready to lose that feeling. Eyes quickly darted to his doctor, his lover. “Hands and knees now.” John's voice reached his ears, he could see the need in those beautiful eyes. Sherlock tried to come back to himself, to twist and roll up. He hit his head briefly on the headboard.

“Damnit. You okay?” John's voice quickly tinged with worry. Sherlock waved him off awkwardly and moved to get into the requested position. His arms shook a bit. Why? He had no reason. He felt a solid arm slide around his waist. A kiss was pressed to his spine. “This.. This is going to be a bigger stretch than my fingers...” John murmured. Sherlock found himself trying to lean back, feeling John's arousal heavy against his buttocks.

“John please.. Please....I need.” He whimpered. John murmured soothingly, a hand slid down slowly, and then something, certainly larger was pressing against him.

Sherlock was stock still underneath John. The doctor almost stopped. Almost. The head was starting to push in. Sherlock surged up, pushing it deeper but also knocking them both off balance, causing him to slip out as he tried not to hurt his lover. “Sherlock!” John tried to gather him close. A bubble of laughter left him as he found the odd tangle they were in. His cock was pressed against Sherlock's ass, but not inside. Sherlock looked a little bewildered and frustrated.

“John why are you not inside me?” Sherlock shifted some. John snorted and bit his shoulder briefly.

“Because you are being impatient.” He murmured. Moment's later they were righted once more, and this time John didn't let himself hesitate. He pushed in, a growl left his throat as he felt the tight heat around himself. Sherlock managed to hold still. Cataloging every bit of this. Though that mental task was soon discarded to him rocking his hips and shuddering under John. 

“Sherlock careful!” John protested though it melted into a groan. Sherlock tried to look over his shoulder, the look of bliss on John's face was worth it. John managed to take control back after a few moments. Sherlock moved one hand to grab at the headboard as John settled into a pace. The unsteady momentum, the toe curling feelings that washed over were more than Sherlock could process.

A hand was on him, working him. He could feel orgasm building quickly. John wasn't trying to stop it. He was encouraging it. This couldn't last, not like this. Sherlock tried to voice it but found himself unable to.

The collapse of bodies, the tangle limbs afterwards was surprisingly wonderful. He could feel John still inside him, soft now. Sherlock was coming back to himself slowly. A rush unlike anything he'd ever experienced. John shifted. His soft cock slipped from Sherlock's body, making him feel odd, empty almost. However the blond doctor shifted to cuddle him a bit closer.

“mm Next time we can try something different. Or... something.” John murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. Sherlock sighed, letting his eyes close.

“I believe that we need better communication.” He murmured softly in agreement. “but next time will be better.” John's arms tightened around him. It felt good, secure. Yes, there would be a next time... This wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. Maybe it was the partner.

“Sherlock, stop thinking.” John muttered softly, sleepily. Sherlock couldn't help a smile at that. He let himself relax into the hold that had him. Good point. Time to stop thinking....


End file.
